200 Years
by IShipMoosifer
Summary: Almost 200 years he's spent in the Cage, almost 200 years as Lucifer's chew toy. The only passage of time Sam understands is when the Devil reminds him how long it's been since he saw the sun. Following the torture in the Cage over 180 years, this is told as chapters set years apart, each one bringing a horrific twist to Sam's new life. NO SLASH Disclaimer: I own nothing.
1. Chapter 1

**Year Three**

" _You did this to me!_ " Lucifer screamed, slashing at Michael's chest. "You are the one who made me like this!" Michael easily stepped back and deflected the blade with his own, face tight with anger.

"I was only doing what our Father commended me to! You brought this upon yourself, brother." Michael lunged forwards with a snarl, managing to scratch Lucifer across his shoulder when he saw his brother's rage distracting him.

Lucifer staggered back with a howl, clutching at his wound. He looked up, hellfire burning in his eyes, and a wave of power crackled through the room. Now, it was nothing but a scratch that was easily healed with his Grace, but it was the first wound that had been struck on either of the brothers in their three year fight. If this made Michael think he was winning, than he was sorely mistaken. Lucifer growled. It was time to pull out all the stops. He'd considered doing this before, but now he needed the advantage.

Michael frowned as a bright, pulsing light started to emanate from the other archangel. Then he realized what Lucifer was doing and stumbled in shock, shaking his head in denial. "You can't!" he screamed, throwing himself at Lucifer in an attempt to stop him. Lucifer simply raised a hand and Michael flew backwards, crumpling to the ground, Grace leaking from a small wound on his forehead.

Lucifer took a deep breath, feeling his Grace snap through him in an overwhelming rush. His laughter started off slow, quiet, but turned full blown hysterical as the light grew blinding. Energy sparked around the archangel, streaks of dark lightning flying out from his back. Michael hissed in fury and raised himself off the ground, advancing towards Lucifer with his archangel blade in hand.

Sam was huddled up against the far wall, watching the fight with Adam centered protectively behind him. He had no idea what was going on, only that the fight was changing. Sam didn't know how long they'd been fighting, just that as soon as he was dropped down onto the concrete floor some time ago the brothers had started going at it like there was no tomorrow. Thankfully, they'd left him and Adam alone this long.

It had looked like once they were in the Cage, Michael and Lucifer were forced out of Adam and Sam. Sam thought that they had manifested themselves into their previous vessels, as he recognized Lucifer's face. However, his vessel had been healed of his previous disintegration and was standing tall and powerful once more.

Not one of them had been wounded- until now. And it looked as if Lucifer wasn't going to take it standing down. Sam stared at the figure of the Devil until his body was lost in a mass of light. Then his eyes started to burn, and he turned his head away, yelling at Adam not to look. A piercing noise split the air, forcing Sam to clasp his hands over his ears in a desperate attempt to spare him some pain. He fell to the ground in a ball, pain overtaking his head as light shone through his eyelids and the noise continued to sound.

Sam thought he screamed, although he couldn't be too sure.

Lucifer felt himself rise into the air, Grace surrounding him. Pain ripped through his back, gashes opening in his skin. He smiled through it all, watching Michael struggle against the wave of power pushing towards him. Then he doubled over, grimacing, as he felt his Grace melt back into its corrupted form. Lucifer met Michael's eyes and grinned, listening to his brother's pure angel voice as he tried stop him.

"You can't be doing this! _You're not powerful enough!_ " Michael hollered, disbelief written all over his face.

Lucifer cracked his neck as more of his tainted Grace leaked through his skin. "Oh, Michael. I think you've forgotten how much power the Archangel of Light has, especially when I've had _centuries_ to feed off of Hell and consume its energy as my own."

"You can't…" Michael rasped out as he saw the things taking form on Lucifer's back.

His brother laughed devilishly. "I already have."

Now even Michael was blinded by the pure energy coming off Lucifer in torrents of power. He threw his hands over his head, shielding himself with a barrier of his own Grace. A deafening blast shook the entire room, sending cracks racing through the concrete walls and floor. Lucifer was truly taken over by pain; as he screamed and arched his back, black Grace leaking from his eyes and mouth, swirling into the mass forming behind him. Chunks of concrete fell around them, just missing the two figures in the center of the room.

The silence was deafening.

Sam cautiously raised his head, peering through the dust with confusion. What the hell had just happened? He coughed quietly into his hand, not wanting to break the silence. Sam looked back at Adam, who was wearing the same shell-shocked expression as always. He clutched onto the back of Sam's shirt- a silent plea not to leave him. Sam nodded, crouching in the rubble and waiting.

He stifled a gasp as the dust started to clear and he saw the two archangels. Michael was sprawled across the floor, archangel blade thrown from his grip. Lucifer was kneeling, but something wasn't right with him. There was something draped over the figure, something… big. Then Sam fell back in astonishment as he saw it wasn't one thing- there were six.

A low laugh echoed through the still room. Lucifer stood up slowly, feeling the dragging weight of his wings pulling on his back. He flexed, feeling the long-unused muscles tense in response. Unfolding his wings in one fluid motion, the six wings fluttering impressively behind him. Lucifer could feel all this power he had surging through his fingertips. Each feather sparked with energy, every inch of his being felt alive and dominant.

Michael opened his eyes with a low groan. His vision was blurry, but a faint light drew his attention to the archangel standing in front of him. Michael focused until the Devil's shoes swam into view, but he forced himself to look up until he could make out his brother's smiling face staring down at him. Then Michael let out a choking noise as he saw the abominations that had sprung from Lucifer's back. He sat up quickly, horrified.

"Your wings…" Michael blurted. "They're hideous."

Lucifer rolled his head and hummed. "Well, isn't that just rude."

Michael stood, summoning his blade to his hand. He was unable to take his eyes off Lucifer's wings as he circled him, inspecting his brother from every angle.

"What happened to you?"

"You did," Lucifer spat, turning to face the older archangel. "Do you think that when you forced me to Fall, everything would be just fine?"

Michael blinked. "No, but under no circumstances would I have imagined… this."

Lucifer's six wings were a symbol of his status of an archangel. As the archangel of light, his wings were once pure, a shining whiteness that brought awe to all who beheld them. Some would even go as far as to call them beautiful. Yet now, they were malformed. Broken, twisted things, burnt forever by the fires of Hell. Ashen grey, and burned black in some places, with embers that still smoldered within the feathers and dropped sparks when he moved. Two of them dragged a little on the floor, having healed wrong when they were broken.

Michael was unable to keep the disgust off of his face. Wings, when summoned like this, were a direct representation of an angel's Grace. Wings were meant to be beautiful, and seeing them twisted like this was like a sucker punch to his stomach. Lucifer must truly be broken inside to be unable heal to his Grace, or a more frightening possibility- he didn't want to.

"How did this happen, brother?"

Lucifer's face darkened, and the embers in his wings flared up. "I Fell. Fell through each layer of Hell, each one bringing screams to my lips as my very essence was ripped apart. Nothing in Hell had seen an archangel such as me before, and they were so, _so_ very curious as to what I was like."

Michael stepped back as Lucifer started to pace. "Each layer had new torments to offer, new things _they_ brought upon me. _They_ forced my Grace out, forced out my inner being, just so _they_ could play with my wings. Oh, how it made me scream."

"I prayed to you, you know. Every hour, pleading for one of you to get me. But no! Father had turned his back on me, and like a little bitch you all followed him. So I took my hatred, my shattered being and I made myself into something new. I made myself into this, into Satan, just so I could get my revenge on you. How does that make you feel, hm? Knowing that you turned me into this thing that I am today."

Michael shook his head defiantly. "No, brother. You made yourself into this. _I_ was doing what was right. _I_ was doing as Father commanded. The Father that loved you most. Surely you understand that he did what he had to do."

"Oh, no." Lucifer hissed. "The only thing that I understand is that you will suffer. I am going to make you pay."

Michael readied his blade, yet Lucifer simply chuckled and with a flick of his hand, the blade got embedded into the wall. Michael grit his teeth and reached inside of him, attempting to even things out and summon his own wings into existence.

The archangel broke out into a cold sweat when he saw Lucifer raise a hand towards him. Michael's Grace, it was being pushed down somehow. He could feel it shriveling up into a ball inside of him, Lucifer's darkness forcing it down into near-oblivion.

"Stop it-" Michael choked out, clutching at his chest.

" _Stop it,_ " Lucifer mocked. "I am going to make you feel every inch of pain that I've ever been through. Every single second that I've suffered, you're going to feel tenfold."

Michael groaned and fell on one knee as he felt his Grace being twisted inside of him, Lucifer's will overpowering his. "How are you doing this?" he gasped.

"I'm in Hell, Mikey. I feed off this place, my home. Even trapped in this pathetic Cage, I've got more power than you ever will."

Michael let loose a shattered scream as Lucifer dug into his Grace, a viscous smile plastered across his face. He crumpled to the ground, feeling the darkness worming through his very being, tearing him apart to gather up every drop of Grace in his body. Lucifer clenched his fist and Michael got thrown against a wall. He let out another scream, Grace beginning to seep out of his skin through the long gashes being torn in his back.

Lucifer advanced towards his helpless brother, wings trailing fire behind him. Resting a hand on his chest almost gently, Lucifer leaned in close to his ear and growled softly. "You're going to regret ever casting me down."

Michael screamed at a decibel that let loose his angel voice, the piercing sound ringing through the room. His Grace thrashed helplessly inside of him as it got dragged out of his body, the brilliant silver light tainted by Lucifer's own Grace controlling it. Michael howled in agony, feeling violated in every aspect as he desperately tried to hold on. His back split open with six deep cuts. He could feel every shred of himself being ripped to slivers, being broken, over and over and over.

Lucifer kept pulling, digging in, sucking every piece of hope Michael might have had out of his body. Silver light began to stream from his eyes and mouth, sparking around his body and joining into wings behind him. There was nothing glorious about this revealing, it was dark, the light streaked with blood and fighting against itself. Michael screamed while Lucifer laughed at his Grace was pulled apart and put back together.

Finally, it was done. And echo of power resounded off of Michael, and he hung his head low in defeat. Six, silver, shining wings were splayed on the wall behind him. Lucifer stared at them for a moment, hunger in his gaze. This is what wings were supposed to look like. But no matter. He could easily change that for Michael.

Lucifer stepped back, leaving Michael hanging from the wall. Flaring his wings, he summoned a large hammer and some metal stakes. With just a thought, red light poured from the stakes as he embedded them with Enochian lettering, casting a spell into the metal. When it was done, he looked up into Michael's terror-filled eyes.

"Lucifer- don't. You don't have to do this," Michael begged.

His brother merely snapped his fingers and Michael's arms got pinned above his head, thick cuffs that encircled his wrists hanging him from the wall. "I do, brother."

Michael closed his eyes in defeat. Even an archangel knew when they were beat. "Please."

Lucifer hesitated, stake and hammer poised over the first wing. "What did you say?"

"I said please, Lucifer. Please." Michael's voice was low and unsteady, a last-ditch effort to convince his brother to stop.

Something flickered behind Lucifer's eyes. Something akin to pity? But whatever it was, it got chased out by the darkness that lived inside the fallen archangel. Lucifer snarled and dropped the hammer, instead driving in the stake with the flat of his hand. Michael screamed, feeling the fire race through his bones. He felt every inch of metal puncture through his skin, grating painfully past the sensitive flesh and into the wall behind him. The silver light flickered and dimmed, the wing automatically tried to pull itself towards Michael's body.

And the first wing was still.

The second time, Michael tucked his remaining wings around himself, still shuddering with pain. Lucifer sighed and shook his head, forcibly grabbing at the next one and pulled on it with his bare hands.

"Don't make me break this," he warned, voice full of promise. When Michael didn't respond, Lucifer easily snapped the bone. Michael shrieked, body thrashing from side to side. And Lucifer slammed the second stake through his brother's wing.

The third time, Michael got another wing broken.

The fourth time, he stopped screaming.

The fifth time, he unfolded the wing himself.

The sixth time, his body was still.

Lucifer stepped back, pleased with his work. Blood covered his arms, and even a little had splattered up on his face. Michael hung there listlessly. He was there very image of broken, Lucifer mused to himself.

"Look at you. The archangel Michael, commander of Heaven's armies, ye who cast down Satan the first time. Pinned up on a wall like an experiment, there to be poked and prodded by the one who killed it. Shall we experiment today, older brother?" Lucifer hummed. "Or maybe I'll just deal with you later."

He snapped his fingers and a wall of iron bars rose up in front of Michael, trapping him. "Now, boys." Lucifer murmured, turning to Sam and Adam with an evil glint in his eyes. "We're going to have so much _fun…._ "


	2. Chapter 2- Behavior

**Huge thank you to all who reviewed, including RobinD'sBanks, jelpy1, beckini, cammiemorris7, and whoever 'Guest' may be!**

* * *

 **Year Thirty**

 _It's just a sensation._

 _Control it._

 _Push it aside._

 _Lock it away._

 _It's just a sensation._

 _It's your body reacting to something, that's all._

 _Just a feeling._

 ** _Pain is just a feeling_** _._

Lucifer sighed as he picked up on Sam's thoughts. Letting the lighter lick at the edges of his wrist, the Devil pulled it back before Sam's skin started to bubble and put a finger on his chin thoughtfully.

"You know, Sam, I'm starting to think that's actually a good method of coping."

Sam forced himself to exhale slowly, ignoring the burning sensation on his forearm. He was hoping that Lucifer wouldn't find out. Or at least, not until later.

Ever since Adam and he had gotten separated, Sam found that he no longer had to be strong for anyone except himself. Adam, even with the short time they'd known each other, had looked up to him. Sam didn't allow himself to scream when Adam was there. Sam had made himself strong, but when Lucifer took that away Sam had to come up with a new method to deal.

So he accepted it, he held onto his pain but didn't let it control him.

Yet now, Lucifer wanted to take even that from him. Sam wouldn't let him. Lucifer had tortured him every which way imaginable, yet still each new day brought some new form of torture. But Sam still refused to break. He refused to give in and scream, he hadn't screamed in twenty years. Screaming was a way of defeat, of letting his pain get the better of him. And Sam wouldn't allow that.

"Still not talking, I see?" Lucifer pondered. "Don't worry, Sammy, I'm sure I can condition that out of you."

Sam flinched on the inside. Conditioning sounded painful, and he doubted that it had to do with his hair. "Go to hell," he spat.

Lucifer threw his arms up in surprise. "He speaks! Tell me Sam, how we feeling today?"

Sam just stared defiantly at Lucifer, raising his head a little as a silent challenge. The Devil shook his head and tossed the lighter onto a tray of tools by his side. Running his fingers over the sharp instruments, Lucifer paused over a scalpel, then shook his head and frowned. He wanted pure brutality for this.

A large meat tenderizer caught his eye, and Lucifer smiled. He clasped it with one hand and lifted it up easily. "This will do perfectly," he said quietly.

The concrete room they were in was silent for a moment, and Sam could hear the far off sounds of Michael screaming. He didn't know exactly where Lucifer had zapped Michael or Adam to, but he knew they had to still be in the Cage. Lucifer had spouted something about pocket universes, but whatever it was, Sam could still hear their pain.

"Are you ever going to be done with him?" Sam asked, tired of listening to Michael's constant screams.

At this, Lucifer looked genuinely confused. "I don't see how I could ever 'be done.' I've barely gotten started."

Sam frowned. His morbid curiosity had been peaked, and anything that could delay his own pain was welcome. "What are you doing to him?"

"Right now?" Lucifer tilted his head slightly, thinking. "Right now, Michael's getting his wings trimmed."

Thoughts flashed through Sam's mind, dredging up the last memories he had of Michael. Lucifer had been 'playing,' as he put it, with the archangel's wings, telling Michael that he was going to end up just like Lucifer in the end.

"You're still torturing him like that." Sam stated.

"What else would I be doing?" Lucifer chuckled. "But you see, Sammy, an angel's wings are so much more than mere appendages. It's a direct representation of our Grace. It could be compared to a soul, if you will. To destroy an angel's wings is to rip apart their very selves."

"How can you still be twisting his wings after however many years?"

"Twenty-seven. Twenty-seven beautiful years you've been tortured by yours truly, and yet. And yet! You still have a little fight left in you. Tell me Sammy, what's the big secret?"

Lucifer smiled and spun the tenderizer in his hand before cracking it down on Sam's ankle. Sam tensed at the unexpected pain, feeling his bones shatter through his skin. "Ah, yes. Your little 'pain is just a feeling' trick, eh?"

Sam let out a strained breath. _It's nothing more than a sensation._

Lucifer hefted the weight again and ran a finger over the dull edge, smearing a spot of blood. "Just a feeling." He said quietly.

A deadly light gleamed in his eyes as Lucifer whipped the metal at Sam's stomach, watching the boy convulse in agony. Sam bit down on his tongue, trying to stop whimpers of pain from escaping his throat.

"It's just a feeling," Lucifer mocked, slamming the tenderizer at his other ankle, watching blood spurt out of the ripped flesh.

"Nothing more than a sensation." Another blow to the stomach. Sam tasted blood.

"Control it." He could see his own ribs.

"Lock it away." A kneecap shattered.

" _It's just a feeling."_

And so it continued, hours upon hours of unadulterated pain. Lucifer continued to use Sam's words against him, scorning the Winchester and brutally beating him within an inch of his life. Using every phrase that Sam had ever thought to control his pain, Lucifer would follow up with a brutal blow from the hammer, watching the boy struggle underneath him.

Lucifer had begun to lose track of exactly how much time had passed. His blood was boiling, all he could see was this pathetic human before him, this broken thing that was somehow his, his to play with as he pleased. The sound of metal against bone filled the room, again and again along with the barely-restrained cries of his pet.

Sam's eyes rolled back in his head as the eventual blood loss caught up to him. He slumped against the table, sagging in his restraints.

Lucifer stared down at his unconscious vessel. Sam had lasted a lot longer than he had initially thought he would, but everybody had their breaking point. Apparently, Sam's was having his ribcage caved in. Who knew?

Lucifer stepped back, watching blood drip from the hammer onto the floor. The small pattering sounds cleared his mind a little, and he threw the tenderizer onto the tray. It clattered loudly, yet Sam didn't move. He was really out of it. Normally, Lucifer would wake him up immediately, or prevent him from going unconscious in the first place, however this time he had a few other things to deal with first.

Casting one last curious look at the boy, a dark pleasure swam through the Devil's eyes. Then he soundlessly disappeared from the dank concrete room.

* * *

Sam groaned as he came into consciousness, fighting his way through a haze of sleep. Instinctively bracing himself for any sort of pain, Sam found himself confused when none came to him. He forced his eyes open.

Immediately, he recognized the absence of his torturer, even if Sam couldn't exactly see. The room was pitch black, yet Sam could somehow feel the fact that Lucifer wasn't there. In fact, he wasn't even tied down, and he cautiously sat up. Running his hands over his healed body, Sam frowned. Was this one of Satan's tricks, or perhaps he was getting a temporary reprieve?

No. Lucifer didn't let Sam have breaks. It was continuous, one new torture straight after another. So what the hell was going on here?

Or maybe he was just blind.

That last thought sent Sam into a panic, and he reached up to touch his eyes. Yes, they were open, but he didn't exactly feel blind. However, does a blind person really _feel_ blind themselves? Sam had no idea. For now, he was just going to have to deal with it.

Maybe there was something in the darkness. Sam shuddered, drawing his legs closer to him. He felt exposed, not knowing what was going to happen next or why. The room somehow had gotten a hundred times bigger, Sam's imagination conjuring up things in the dark, and he blindly grasped for something, anything to hold on to.

His hand clattered against a metal object and he flinched at the cool contact before recognizing what it was. Sam eagerly pulled the tray towards him, fingers flying over the sharp tools. He knew they were the very instruments of torture that Lucifer had used on him, but in this situation, they would be doubling as weapons for his self-defence.

Sam quickly identified a long knife, hammer and nails, as well as a few other tools and gathered them around him. He had to feel his way to the edge of the large table, and he swung his feet over the edge. Letting himself drop down, Sam ran his hands over the flat surface and shoved the nails in his pocket and the hammer in his belt. The rest of his weapons, he stashed at various places on his person.

Half-crouching, with one hand outstretched, Sam slowly started forward towards the nearest wall. He took slow, measured steps, expecting something to come attack him at any second. But none came. Sam made it to the concrete wall without incident.

Sam fumbled at his pockets for the nails. Finding one and placing it at the wall, Sam brought up the hammer and swung. The nail easily bit deep into the concrete- almost too easily. Sam frowned. The Cage was supposedly impenetrable, yet that nail had broken through the concrete like it was nothing. Although, Lucifer had probably manipulated his surroundings into something he wanted. So this obviously wasn't what the real Cage looked like.

Whatever it was, it had to be good enough for now.

Sam continued to walk the perimeter of the room, trailing his hand along the wall. All four walls felt the same, with no difference expect for the fact that one of them had a nail stuck in it for reference. Sam started to lose track of how long he'd been walking for, searching blindly for any sort of difference, but there was none. Every inch was perfectly smooth, not a crack or chip marring the surface.

Defeated, Sam slumped against the wall underneath the nail. There was nothing except for the table in the centre of the room. Not even a door, although he supposed that Lucifer could just zap himself to wherever he needs to go whenever he wants.

Sam didn't think he'd drifted off before he was awoken by a blinding light shining straight on his face. He squinted at it, raising his hands to cover his eyes.

Or at least, he tried to.

His hands were tied back down. He was on the table again.

 _No, no, no nononono-_

 _Not again, this can't be happening again-_

"It's just a sensation."

The voice sounded loudly in his ear, but Sam barely registered it. He violently flinched away, so used to having pain follow those words that he couldn't control his body tensing up in expectation. He could almost feel the tenderizer coming down on him, breaking his ribs and caving in his lungs-

Lucifer cackled, walking in circles around the terrified Winchester. "Now that's what I like to see! Behavioral training, check. Looks like all those hours with that hammer paid off. What's next?"

The Devil stopped next to Sam and leaned against the table, mimicking checking a list. "Ah, yes." He cast a sly glance at the struggling boy.

"Let's take a look at those pretty teeth of yours, shall we?"


End file.
